Letters Home from a Yankee Doughboy 1916-1919

I wish you was here just now to see the beautiful sunset; But only to see the sunset for it is no place for a city born. We are camped on a flat piece of ground which is all clay, and (oh) isn’t it hot. As soon as we left Kansas City we began to get the alkali dust in our throats and it seemed as though we could not get enough water, and when we did get it, we wished we were all back in dear old New England; It looks just like water that has been drawn from the Mystic River. But of coarse we had to drink it, and there isn’t a man sick yet.

I could not and will not try to discribe the grand trip it was down here to the farthest state in the south of the good old U.S, for it is some thing that has to be seen not told of. First the Adarondacks in N.Y. from which you look down on great vallies and right here I want to say that for beauty it exceeded every thing we saw on the trip. Then we hit Ill. But it being dark when we went through there all we saw was the station of Chicago. The plains of Ohio on which is raised corn that covers areas of fifty miles along the rail road, and the land as level as a lake as far as the eye can see in all directions. Then the muddy rivers of the Missisippi River and its tributaries. The plains of Missourie are just like the plains of Ohio only, instead of corn they raise wheat, and I wish you could see and ride through these vast field of plenty. You ride, ride, ride and then you ride and all you can see is grain and alfalfa, (a high grade of hay. When this hay is cut they pile it up as high as a voting booth, in fact the resemblance is the same.

I think that New Mexico is the most baron piece of land that was ever made for just as we rode for miles through grapes in N.Y, corn in the east of the Mississipi River, and wheat, (it seemed every where), there is nothing in this vast dersert of rocky hills, and dried up streams. But down in the lower part of the state the Indians live in low mud huts and they do look savage.

Now I said I was not going to discribe the trip, and I guess I haven’t. But I am going to describe the place in which we are quartered. By this map you can see our position in regard to Mex. The last tent in our street is about 100 yards from the river which sesarates the two countries. The cross opposite the arrow indicates where a sentinal got shot and killed yesterday morning. We have all got 90 round of ammunition which we carry with us all the time. I hope you got all the post cards I sent you. Please write soon. I am sorry I can’t write any more now for I have to go out to drill, but I hope to find time to write again soon. By the way, outside of being dry all the time from the clay dust I am as well as the best of them. You will have to excuse the condition of this paper for all we can sit on is the ground, (if you can call it such) and use our mess pans as desks.

I was going to finish this letter when the other sheet of paper was full but you see some one was kind enough to give me a few sheet of this, so I will continue a little longer. We have just come in from an hours drill, and it is tough hiking around in these uniforms, rifles, round abouts filled with 90 rounds of ammunition a canteen of water, boyonet, and wire cutting tools. I took a drink of water from my canteen, and I bet you could boil an egg in the water, it was so hot. We will get river patrol next week and then we will find out the nerve of some of the men we have with us. This job will consist of small parties of men called outposts, stationed along the river in plain view of the out post of the Mexicans. Yesterday we could see the Mexican cavalry drilling and they looked good, about 200 of them. You can see by the diagram that I made on the other sheet that the old Bay State Troops are an important factor. I guess we are nearer Mexican soil than any other National Gaurdsmen. So if anything happens (and I don’t think there will) the old Eight will be right there.

The regular army fellows down here of which there are about 4,000 are a fine lot of fellows, and they don’t do any kidding at all. Last week there was a call for these 4000 troops to assemble, for they were to take Jaurez, as city just opposite El Paso and they were ready in 15 minutes. Of course this was only a practice event, and they were all sore when told so.

We are going to be issued six pair of unterwear, twelve pair of socks, two pair of shoes, two more outside shirts, beside the rest of a soldiers equipment so it looks as though they have got us here for a while.

The first day we struck here it seemed every body had a blood nose, I didn’t, olthough the say it is good for you. The reason for this is the high dry climate. I am doing pretty good ain’t I to write all this, for I guess it is the longest letter I ever wrote. It only shows how much I would like to be back there again, for it seems an age since it rain last, (you know Sunday) and Monday when pa came down to Framingham to see me off, when we didn’t leave until 7 oclock Tuesday morning. There are very few cases of sickness yet in this camp, and I think we will soon get used to the intense heat. I sent a post card from about every place we stopped long enough to do so. So as I have said before I hope you have received them. The idea is, I would buy them in one Town, and if I didn’t have time to mail them, we would through them out the window with the money for the stamps at the next station.

There is no chance of starving down here for you don’t feel like eating. All you want is water, water water all the time, and oh what water. But the regulars tell us that we will get used to it and I (know) we will. They also say that the thirst lasts only for 2-3 days. (I hope so) This isn’t Boston. Well don’t forget to write very soon and be assured that I will take care of myself to the best ofmy ability that I will return in proper shape soon.

Send mail to,

Serg. Samuel E Avery, Company K

Eight Massaschusetts National Guard

Camp Cotton, El Paso, Texas

P.S. This address is some letter in itself but it is the only way so that I can be sure and get it. Well don’t forget that I’m a long way from home and a letter will carry me back quit a distance.

The postcards Sam refers to having sent from stops along his journey South to the Border have been lost to history. It seems likely that they never reached their destination, especially since some of them may have simply been thrown out the window with a prayer that a Good Samaritan would forward them.

For a collection of similar postcards from this journey that did arrive home safely please read Dear Family Vol. 1 by Shawn Pease. Follow the Great War link for the “Shawn Pease Collection” or click here: http://www.lulu.com/content/66515